Retiring, but not shy

I learned this morning that the headmaster of my old school is to retire.

I have fond memories of school. It was a comprehensive whose intake sliced through the city geographically and socio-economically, and provided a secure and supportive melting pot in which to work through and emerge from the tribulations of teenhood. Political awareness was encouraged, with staff being comfortable to espouse their political views. It was not uncommon for staff and students to be found discussing the issues of the day during breaks or lunchtime. I have no doubt that the headmaster was the cornerstone of the school's success in this role.

He was an inspirational leader, and despite being subjected by his students to some taxing moments, including explaining to the local press why hundreds of his students had refused to attend lessons for the day and had instead "gone on strike", and having to calm the panic that rapidly spread throughout the school after a student welcomed one of his gun-brandishing friends into the building, I recall him never acting in a manner that was anything other than professional. This did not constrain his personality or generosity of spirit. One moment particularly stands out.

He was leading an assembly on the theme of "Heroes". This would have been around 1996, Nelson Mandela had been elected president of South Africa a couple of years previously, in the country's first democratic election.

The head read from "Long Walk to Freedom". I cannot remember the excerpt he chose, other than it speaking of the injustice and indecency to which Mandela and fellow prisoners were subjected. I only recall being completely absorbed by the presence of this man who was prepared to expose to several hundred teenagers something which mattered deeply to him. He welled up as he read, his voice cracked, the tears flowed. I remember the shared sense of disbelief amongst the students that the head, who needed to command the respect of hundreds of teenagers, would be prepared to stand alone on a stage and cry in order to convey to the assembled masses the strength of his belief in the qualities he was conveying. I doubt there are many people who would be prepared to put themselves in such a position. Had any other teacher have attempted this, I suspect they would have been the butt of jokes for the remainder of our school years.

It was enormously impressive, a single incident in which my understanding and ideas of authority and leadership underwent a paradigm shift, when having authority did not require an aura of invulnerability, superior strength, intellect, or power.

I wish him a long and happy retirement.